


The Intimacy of Coffee

by Dragomir



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Coffee, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Insomnia, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir
Summary: Fairwind had invited him over, in an open-ended sort of way. Mathias decided to take him up on it.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46





	The Intimacy of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Look, it's just pure fluff, okay? Takes place probably just after the treasury raid.

Mathias couldn’t sleep - nothing unusual, in the wake of the Legion invasion and his...period of being indisposed. Being outside reminded him that the invasion was over and, barring the matter of the current war and the mess with the Azerite currently trying to tear his home planet apart, Azeroth itself was safe. Everyone on the ship assumed he was an insomniac, and for the most part, they were right.

The rest of it was just nightmares.

And, it seemed, he realized as he glanced down the line of ships moored along the docks near the Harbormaster’s office and the Redemption’s own berth, he wasn’t the only one currently awake. He smiled crookedly, feeling just a bit fonder for a moment before he buried the feeling.

The light flickering in the window of the captain’s cabin on the Middenwake did look inviting, though, and Fairwind had - only somewhat obnoxiously - invited him in “whenever you like, mate”. For the oddest reason, he wanted to take the privateer up on the offer. It had no doubt been made in jest, as many things Fairwind said were, but… Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Someone had to make the first move, and he suspected the privateer already had.

That, or Mathias was starting to read too much into a damn lamp being lit.

He sighed, pushing himself upwards, away from the maps that he used as his usual excuse for why he wasn’t in his cabin, asleep, like normal people. (Halford couldn’t complain - the champions seemed to treat the Redemption like a playground, and he wasn’t exactly sure any of them slept.) The dock was lonely at this time of night, quiet - Mathias preferred it to the raucous noise and overwhelming presence it had in the daylight and early evening hours. Too much noise, too many people, too many chances that an enemy could slip in and attack… (This was the reason he never slept. If he kept one eye open, he’d never be surprised by an enemy. Not again.)

The Middenwake was eerily quiet too, and Mathias turned his gaze up towards the crow’s nest, just in case one of Fairwind’s reprobates had ensconced themselves up there for the night. It was blessedly empty - no witnesses to his embarrassment if it turned out he’d read too much into the privateer’s invitation. The rest of the crew were either asleep somewhere in Boralus or fast asleep belowdecks - further away from their captain, and far enough that he could make this visit in peace. He slipped easily through the ship, shadows sticking to him more easily than they did to Magister Umbric and his ren’dorei. The shadows were second nature to him, more than they ever would be to a void elf - he had been raised in them, after all.

Mathias froze outside the door to the captain’s cabin, one hand raised to knock. He felt suddenly anxious, like he was a teenager again, sneaking out of his grandmother’s prying sight to visit Edwin. Except he was well past that age, and the only thing stopping him was...himself.

He was a bit pathetic, honestly.

Before he could talk himself out of it, the spymaster knocked once, gently, knuckles thudding gently against the wood. There was a scuffling noise in the cabin, a muffled curse, and before Mathias could make himself believe that he’d interrupted some sordid tryst, the door opened. Fairwind stood in the doorway, red hair spilling over his face and one shoulder, limned with gold fire from the lamp bathing his cabin in warm light. His shirt was unlaced almost to the navel and he wore a simple pair of breeches, no socks or boots on his feet. When he saw who had knocked, the privateer’s face broke into an easy grin.

“Spymaster,” he said, turning aside so the older man could enter. “Come in! I...” His grin turned to a frown. “...How come you aren’t asleep?”

Mathias raised a hand to block the privateer’s before the man could prod his ribs, startling a laugh out of the Kul Tiran. “I… No. I couldn’t. I...saw your light,” he added, gesturing at the lamp, “and thought I might...avail myself of your invitation.” He was tongue-tied, and obviously too sleep-deprived to actually maintain his composure. Light, he’d never hear the end of teasing after this. This was a mistake and-

“I did mean it,” Fairwind said, cutting off his train of thought. “Also, you can call me Flynn.” The easy grin was back and he ambled back to the messy desk he’d propped...something...up on. “As it happens, I can’t sleep either.”

Mathias squinted at the desk and realized Fai- Flynn had set up a coffee pot. “And you decided to add caffeine to your night?” he asked dryly.

Flynn shrugged, measuring out coffee from a small pouch next to the pot. “I needed the intimacy of coffee,” he replied, chewing on his lower lip as he sifted the ground coffee into a filter. “You want a cup, or something stronger?”

Mathias considered it for a brief moment before shaking his head. “Coffee will do.”

“One cup, coming right up.”

They waited in silence for the pot to finish brewing, and Mathias felt the tension slowly bleed out of his shoulders and back, releasing the tension that had gotten him up in the first place.

“My brother, Klause, used to do this when I was a kid,” Flynn said, breaking the silence as he retrieved a second battered mug for Mathias to drink from. “He’d wait til dad was passed out drunk at the Wick, then make us all coffee. It was terrible, but it was something he did for us just because he cared. Tried to keep the tradition up since then.” He sniffed his mug, then took a careful sip, grimacing. “Coffee hasn’t improved much, but that’s what sugar and milk are for, you know?”

Mathias cradled the mug in his hands, letting the rambling wash over him. His eyes started to droop sometime around Flynn’s explanation of just where Klause had gotten the coffee in the first place, and he was asleep by the time the story of the third coffee pot’s demise started.

**Author's Note:**

> There is something wonderfully, soothingly intimate about a cup of coffee. I don't think Mathias managed to drink his, though (which was probably for the best. Flynn was right - the coffee hadn't improved much since he left Dampwick.)


End file.
